


Mission Report

by marykathryn30



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 1940s, Eventual Smut, F/M, M/M, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Pre-Avengers (2012), Pre-Civil War (Marvel), Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 11:20:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12131337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marykathryn30/pseuds/marykathryn30
Summary: Pain. That’s the first thing I remember after waking up. Pain unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Like fire, it sparked between my shoulder blades, spreading across my back until it felt like my body was being engulfed by the flames. My back arched, desperate screams rattling out of my throat, calling for help, or death. Anything at this point.Rose McCallister started her career as an undercover spy for the American government, stationed in the Russian mountains at the start of World War II. That is, until her squadron is discovered by the Russian military, her entire team abandoning her to either freeze to death or get caught.Despite her efforts, she ends up trapped in the Russian deep science division, victim to their experiments and brain washing until she can't remember her own name. They train her to murder, to infiltrate her own government and expose secrets to the one group the Americans feared.





	1. Can Anybody Hear me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This couldn't be happening. It couldn't. 
> 
>  
> 
> I hoarsely called out to my team's retreating backs, blurry from the flurries of snow whipping around us. 
> 
> None of them turned. They were leaving. Abandoning our mission. 
> 
> Abandoning me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This is my first story on here, so comments and all that stuff is super appreciated! I'll try to update whenever I can, but being in school can sometimes make that difficult. I apologize if there's any errors. I'm really bad at going back to proof read my stuff. 
> 
> But let me know what you guys think! Some of these chapters are gonna be really short, so I'm sorry for that. Thanks so much for reading!! I really appreciate it!

_"This is Rose McCallister. I am a U.S. government employee, stationed in a village near the Russian mountains with a team of nine, ten including myself. We were deployed to gather information on illegal human experimentation under the Russian Nazi's, and we, I, fear they have become aware of our attempts to infiltrate their facilities. Please, send help."_

One of my teammates blew into his clasped hands, bouncing on the balls of his feet in the small tent, trying to find any trace of warmth. The mountains were unforgiving this time of year, and most of our equipment wasn't qualified for this level of cold. 

"There's more gloves in the bag over there," I said, rubbing my own hands together through two pairs of gloves. "It might help a little." 

"They can't keep the warmth in if there isn't any to keep in," he snapped. 

"I'm sorry, I just thought-," 

"That's the problem, Rose. You always fucking think. You thought it'd be a good idea to figure out if Russians are experimenting on people out here, in the middle of nowhere! Then you think the fucking reds are onto us, so you send out a distress call, and now they've got people hiking the fucking mountains for us!" 

"They  _were_ onto us," I reminded him. "We decoded their message about American spies three days ago." 

"There could be hundreds of American spies over here! We don't know if that was even about us!" 

"You really think the American government is going to send more spies into the mountains?" I asked flatly. "When we're already here?" 

"Fuck off, Rose," he snarled, taking a step towards me. "This whole mission is shit and we all know it. Who gives a flying fuck if the Russians are experimenting on their own people? It's their own damn fault. I say let 'em die." 

"We give a flying fuck. Just because their Russian doesn't mean they deserve to be treated like lab rats. They're still people, same as you and I." 

He snorted and shook his head, moving to walk out of the tent. 

"Good ole' Rosie, a humanitarian to everyone except people from her own damn country." 

He walked out of the tent, no doubt to rally the rest of the team to talk about how shitty of a leader I was, how the mission was mute, and all the other bullshit they'd been talking about for the past month and a half. Yes, it had been my idea to investigate whether or not they were experimenting illegally, but it was important to know. With the World War just ending, it was more necessary than ever to make sure each country was holding firm to the treaties they'd signed, and keeping their government in the line of basic humanitarian expectations. 

My self induced solitary confinement lasted throughout the night, while I scribbled down messages beeping across the telegraph, attempting to decode them as quickly as they came in. I wasn't sure how long we'd be able to safely stay in this area, and the equipment was too bulky to be moved in the snow. Nothing exciting came through until around midnight, when the light outside my tent was almost completely gone, and I could hear the wind whipping against the fabric surrounding me. 

Suddenly, the telegraph started beeping wildly, spewing out of lines and dots faster than I could keep up with them. My pencil flew across the paper and I decoded each one.

_Americans... Spies... Abandoning location_

"What?!" I cried, jumping out of my seat. I hurriedly threw on my thick coat, scrambling with the zipper to my tent before all but falling out of it face first into the snow. I could barely see through the thick, white snow storm, but I could vaguely make out the dark shapes of my teammates abandoning their posts. 

"What are you doing?" I screamed, pushing my legs through the knee high blanketed snow to catch up to them. My chest tightened, my breath starting to push out of my lungs in short, shallow rasps. 

They had to have a reason for leaving everything behind. It's illegal to abandon your post, isn't it? I couldn't panic. Not yet. Maybe they were just looking for a new, safer place to settle. 

"John," I panted, grabbing onto the arm of the man who'd earlier stormed out of my tent. "Where are you all going? What's happening?" 

He shrugged off my hand and turned to face me, his eyes steely as he lowered the scarf covering his face.

"We're leaving," he stated matter of factly. "Our only two options are getting captured, or fucking freezing to death in this weather. We're getting the fuck out of here before the rest of the storms roll in." 

"Why- what? Why didn't you say anything earlier? We could have packed the tents, taken the equipment. There's a village just down the mountain. I'm sure we could settle on the edge of it and be perfectly-," 

"No, Rose." John rolled his shoulders and glanced at the rest of the team behind him. They all shifted their feet nervously, looking anywhere but me. "We're not taking the equipment, and we're not taking you." 

"What are you-," my words were cut short as something blunt beat once into the back of my head, sending my body barreling towards the ground as the white storm around me faded to black. 


	2. Vicious Victor

Pain. That’s the first thing I remember after waking up. Pain unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Like fire, it sparked between my shoulder blades, spreading across my back until it felt like my body was being engulfed by the flames. My back arched, desperate screams rattling out of my throat, calling for help, or death. Anything at this point.  
Then the pain froze. Literally, it felt like. The flames retreated to the middle of my back, only to be replaced by the prickling sensation of what felt like a thousand needles stabbing into my skin. My heavy breaths turned to frost before my eyes, tremors and goosebumps rocking by body against the metal slab I was restrained to. I curled my fingers to stop the shaking, the sound of cracking ice meeting my ears as I did so. What was happening to me? My limbs crunched into frozen positions, locking into place as I desperately tried to free myself from whatever was coursing through me. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in one of the many screens surrounding me; this one was black, the others spitting out skewed lines of my slowing heart rate and vitals. Thin blue lines crept up my face, taking the place of the angry red veins before them. My lips, still puffing shallow breaths of white, had turned an unhealthy shade of purple; I could hear the poison, ice, whatever it was, reaching past my chest and up my neck. It sounded like a million slivers of glass being snapped in half, all at the same time. The higher it climbed, the less I could move, the faster my breathing got. I’d experienced cold, spent a month camping through Russian mountains on a military assignment, but this was more than cold. I didn’t have words for it.

A man came into vision above me, a clipboard piled with papers clenched in his hand. He adjusted his glasses and turned my chin to the side, tapping his pen down the bulging blue veins on my neck. “Please,” I whispered, my lips the only things left under my control. The word came out as little more than a breath.

  
He leaned over me, a sinister smile twisting his lips. “My dear, I’m afraid I cannot do that.” He spoke through a thick accent. German? Slovakian? Russian? “You see, you are going to be a part of somezing great. A prized agent for ze American government, and able to withstand my little… Experiments. If we stopped now?” He clicked his tongue, standing upright and scribbling a note on his clipboard. “All this would be for nozing.”

 

**Date: January, 1940. Location: Somewhere in mother Russia**

“You MUST learn to control it! If you want any chance of actually getting assigned a mission, you better learn to get your powers under fucking control!” Victor, my 'handler', grabbed a hold of my chin as the fourth fire crew of the day ran in to hose down the training quarters.

  
Stepping back out of his touch, I rubbed my fingertips against the back of my hand, where the painful red swirls of tattooing were already starting to fade. This always happened anytime I used my… Abilities. Markings, brands almost, spread from the tattoo between my shoulders, swirling, twisting along my entire body until they reached the tips of my fingers. The red ones burned like hell, only present when I took power from the bottom section of my tattoo. Victor called it a little campfire, but the results were significantly deadlier than a anything a Boy Scout could cook up. Hence why my training had become entirely people free. It was a safety precaution, after one trainer left with third degree burns, and the other nearly drowned.

  
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were failing on purpose.” Victor led me out of the room, leaving the clean up crew to handle my mess. He gripped the top of my arm, nodding at the guards shifting their weight by the door to follow us. I considered fighting him, but that hadn’t ended very well the last time I’d tried.

  
They led me to down different halls, spitting at each other in fluent Russian. Victor let go of me once we reached a bolted concrete door, signaling for each of the guards to force me into the room.

  
Once they muscled me inside, they shoved me down to the floor, one placing a well placed, heavy booted kick directly to my ribs. The sharp pain exploded across my chest and I groaned into the concrete floor.

  
“You were one of the only ones to survive all our tests, and now you're failing on purpose?” He clucked his tongue disapprovingly, his Russian accent leaked through into his words, and I was reminded, once again, how really alone I was in this place. This lab. The only American, one of maybe three women to walk the iron halls, and one of the only people to survive the experiments.

  
“You will gain control, and you will fight for Hydra. We'd like to think, since you're American counterparts left you in the snow, that you'd be come sort of a... Double agent, for us.”  
Victor’s footsteps echoed on the floor around me, and I could practically hear the sick smirk unfolding on his lips; I heard the clang of the heavy metal door, and more steps following it’s closing. I closed my eyes and let my overheated forehead rest against the floor. At least it was somewhat cool. 

  
A pair of thick boots came into view next to my face, and I heard them creak as Victor leaned down.

  
“Do you know what comes next?” He patted the back of my head, his voice mocking. “This is the fun part.”

  
The guard hefted me off the floor and forced me into a metal chair near the corner of the room. The floor was dusty and dirty, bloodstained from the countless others they'd dragged into this pit. They hurriedly tightened the leather straps around my wrists and ankles, leaning the chair back once everything was tied. I pulled against them, lashing out as they pinned me down. Victor stood calmly at the end of the chair, watching me struggle against the guards.

  
“You know there’s no point to that,” he said, walking to the side of the chair so he could look at my face. He tapped his finger against the markings unfolding across the back of my hands, signaling I was attempting to use my abilities to get out of this damn chair. “These straps are fireproof, waterproof, you proof. There’s no point struggling. I’d suggest you bite on this.” He held up a bunched up piece of cloth, waggling it in front of my face. “We wouldn’t want you swallowing your tongue, would we? We all know how much I enjoy your back talk.” He cupped my face with an unwelcome hand, tracing his thumb over the line of my lips. I opened my mouth to bite him, to protest against his disgusting touch, but he shoved the fabric in my mouth before I had a chance. A guard grabbed my face in his hands, forcing my face forward so they could line the equipment up with my face, one panel fitting near the top of my head on each side.  
The other guard tightened the strap around my forehead as Victor worked with some machinery behind my head.  
“The scientists were able to give you the enhancements,” he said, attaching different electric probes to each of my temples, sliding the last panel across to rest in the middle of my forehead. I tried to spit out the rag but he put a strap over my mouth on top of it. “But I’m going to make you ours. Doesn't that sound nice? A whole new regime. You wouldn't want to go back to America, anyway. They left you, remember?” 

He flicked a switch on the board in front of him, and I felt each of the panels ignite with searing electricity. I screamed into the ball on cotton in my mouth, my body arching into the air, the leather restraints the only things keeping me from flailing to the floor. Victor calmly started turning a knob to the right of the switch he'd turned, the pain intensifying with each click. My screams built and echoed throughout the room, tears streaming freely down my face. 

I couldn't take this. I could feel the different areas of my brain burning, could feel the burns forming on my temples from the probes. Quick glimpses of memories flittered before my eyes, things from my childhood I hadn't thought of in years. 

"You see, Rosie," Victor drawled, stepping away from his control panel to step closer to my writhing body. "This is just the beginning. Soon, we'll have every last shred of  _Rose McCallister, American spy_ out of that head of yours. Then I get to make you whoever I want to be. Make you do whatever I want you to do. We'll have you back to your home country soon enough. But with an entirely different purpose. That, I can promise you." 


	3. Adaptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashbacks to Rose during her transformation, and the beginning of her trip back into the American government.

_“It’s an adaptation.”_   
_“What kind of adaptation? This doesn’t happen to normal people.” I pushed my fingers into his field of vision; the skin was marked burning red swirls, starting somewhere behind my shoulders and twisting down my arms until they split at my fingers, each digit spider webbed like some fiery Henna tattoo. “What did you do to me?!”_   
_The doctor in front of me tapped his pen against the clipboard in his hand, adjusting his round glasses with the other._   
_“The tattoos are part of the enhancement,” he said slowly, pushing my hand away as sparks flew from my fingertips._   
_“What the hell is wrong with me?!” I reached out and grabbed the front of his labcoat, yanking at the wires and tubes restraining my movements. I hauled the doctor close to my face, my palms burning as the coat started to smoke._   
_“I- it was-,”_   
_The machines around me started beeping erratically, alerting the loss of a signal as the plastic tubing melted away from the needle holding it in my arm._   
_“Please! I don’t know what happened!” Panic grew behind the doctor’s eyes as the lapels of his coat turned black and started to drop to the floor. “They told me to check your vitals! Please!”_

I needed to get that damn voice out of my head. I opened my eyes and stared at the cracking ceiling above me, trying to focus on the sounds coming from the small city outside. Meaningless chatter, the growl of car engines too impatient to wait for a green light, music pumping from the sleazy club a few buildings down. I took a deep breath, willing my brain to calm down. The noise outside helped block what was happening inside my head, but it wasn’t enough. I needed something louder, something to entirely block out the parts of myself trying to piece themselves back together. I couldn’t afford any distractions, not before a mission.  
With perfect timing, the shitty dial up next to me rang obnoxiously. Without moving my gaze from the cracks spider webbing the plaster above my head, I reached out and snatched the phone off the receiver. I didn’t speak once I put it to my ear, and the static filled voice at the other end didn’t give me a chance to.  
“We have an approximate location on the target. You’ll have to be patient, though. The security is a little, erm, better, than most we’ve encountered.”  
I closed my eyes waited for the voice to continue. It was male, obviously. No one put a woman in charge during a world war. Except the Americans. But they were close to losing this war anyway.  
“This isn’t going to be easy. You’ll have to infiltrate and get intel before you can kill anyone.”  
I sighed and shut my eyes tighter. Of course this had to be the worst kind of mission.  
The voice on the other end must have heard my disappointed sigh, but they ignored it.  
“We need information about the Allies next plan before you can eliminate your target. You’ll leave tomorrow morning from the station across town. We’ve set up a train to take you into Germany, where the Americans are. It leaves at seven exactly. You’re on your own once it crosses Allied lines. Understood?”  
“Understood.”  
I heard a click at the other end, and I stiffly put the phone back on the receiver. Just outside, someone’s tinkling laugh wafted through the broken window of the shit hole I was staying in. A car chugged by, tires crumbling the rocky road underneath. I heard the necks of glass bottles clink together, followed by hearty laughter. The noise was nothing compared to what I really needed to stop the ache behind my eyes, but it was something.  
I got flashes of faces, of smells, textures, but that was it. It was a distraction, something I usually couldn’t afford to have. Distractions meant mistakes, and mistakes meant consequences. I’d need rest if they wanted me leaving on an early train, but my brain refused to shut down.  
The aching pain bloomed behind my left eye, triggered by the pieces of memory trying to fit together in my head. Everything was so fucking jumbled. I remembered the training facility, remembered learning to control my abilities, gaining what I needed from targets before eliminating them. I remembered being strapped to an industrial table, probes and wires shoved into my skin, pulsing electricity through my body and brain. I remembered the sound of my screams bouncing off the concrete walls.  
But these were… different. No one was dressed in tactical gear, barking orders at me with the threat of sending me back to the chair. They weren’t clouded with darkness and artificial fluorescent lighting. They were memories of sunshine. Of a woman with long dark hair smiling warmly at me; the corners of her face were slightly warbled, like I was looking at her through a fishtank. I could remember the sound of a soft voice, something comforting. But I couldn’t place who’s voice it was.  
I pulled my pillow over my face and fought the urge to scream into it as my headache spread across my forehead. The voice in my head warbled around with other voices that didn’t make sense, mixing with the noises traveling in through the open window; I dug my fingers into the pillow and focused on my breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth.  
Slowly, the chatter in my head faded to background noise. My headache continued to pound at my brain, demanding my attention, but I eventually was able to ignore it, falling into an uneasy, mostly useless sleep.


End file.
